A Cotswold Gallery

We have acquired the winter use of a vehicle and it has transformed our lives; the aim is that Andy won't risk life and limb on the motorbike when it is icy and snowy, on his long commute to work. But it also means that we can get out a little more in the bad weather, when it's just too darned cold and wet to go on the bike. Previously I have rarely ventured out much at this time of year, rural public transport being too costly and there are limits to how far I can get on my bicycle.

I've never lived with a car of any kind before, apart from a few years with my foster parents. However my cantankerous foster father made a particular point of not giving me lifts anywhere, even on dark evenings, which can be hazardous for a teenage girl. It didn't kill me, but it made me even more aware, if I needed it, of how little he cared for me. So this is an unimaginable luxury and I am enjoying every single minute of it, while it's here. I can actually sit back in the warm and look at our gorgeous Cotswolds, in their winter splendour, in comfort, while sucking a sherbert lemon. Which you can't do on the back of a bike.

We were headed over to Winchcombe, as I wanted to visit a couple of Twitter-friends. We arrived just as a rainbow was disappearing into this historic town, which nestles snugly in the landscape, surrounded by wooded hills and on the doorstep of the stately Sudeley Castle.

Firstly I visited Bob and Carol at Sprogs, which is the best toy shop in the Cotswolds. No tatty plastic to be found here, just well chosen, beautiful toys and gifts for every age. I stayed chatting for them for ages (poor Andy!) and managed to do a little business there as well, so a return trip in January is arranged. My next visit was to see Jane and her newly re-furbished Winds of Change Gallery, who is featured in the current BBC Homes and Antiques magazine. I've met Jane before, last summer, but haven't seen the gallery since the change over.

It is gorgeous. Jane has exquisite taste and has created a stylish, clean but comfortable setting for the lovely arts and crafts collection, much of it local.

Although it is a modest size, there is a feeling of lightness and space.

This wonderful rocking horse (with a real horsehair mane) was painted by local folk artist Katie B. Morgan and carved by her father. Katie is a traditional fairground and gypsy wagon painter, amongst other things and her website is well worth a look if you love this kind of work, as is her interesting blog.

Andy was very taken with this hand crafted ladder back chair -

And I am saving my pennies for a Woolsoft 100% British wool cushion - maybe for our next house, if we ever get there.

Jane provided coffee with mince pies and we stayed for some time, discussing this and that, making a date for another meeting soon, when I hope to meet Katie B. Morgan too. Jane welcomes browsers and visitors, so if you are local to the Cheltenham area or nearby, (or even just passing through) do stop and say hello. Winchcombe is a vibrant town, with two great butchers and a nice variety of shops and pubs, with some stunning local walks and the famous Belas Knap Long Barrow just up the road.

The short afternoon was darkening and we began our journey home, back through the quaint High Street of Winchcombe town.

Catching the last fragment of winter sunshine which brings out the soft richness of the neutrals in the landscape and bare trees.

Later in the week I also made time to cut a new block of my 'Little Hare' design. as the old one was a bit battered. I seem to have re-learned my rusty printing skills, as to my amazement, I printed off 30 or so near perfect prints first time round and knowing how popular the first one was, I've put some of them *here* in my Etsy shop again, at the same 'under a fiver' price.

Misty moisty morning

After several days self imposed incarceration, I woke this morning to thick icy fog - enchanting and too tempting to resist. Crossing the fields into a dense whiteness I headed for the top farm, marveling at the fairyland effects of a thick hoar frost.

Bitter woodsmoke mingled with the icy freshness of the mist as I neared the shrouded buildings, where lambing ewes moaned and droned from the warm safety of a barn. Finches, tits and chaffinches were threading nimbly through the sparse hedgerow, their dainty flight interrupted by fat, fuss-bustling blackbirds. A fragile white sun tried in vain to break through the pearlescent opacity as I passed scattered cottages, tempting smells of bacon drifting across my path.


Turning back to the village, a sad sight for a winter morning...a young badger, dead in a ditch. They are often found in this stretch of road, their instinct for a time hallowed crossing spot not tempered by the arrival of man's swift killing machines. But life surges relentlessly on, and already tender new leaves of honeysuckle are creeping through lichen crusted hawthorn twigs, despite the intense cold we have had recently. Church bells tumble from a nearby church as I pick up my Sunday Times and head home to eggs, toast and the inevitable pot of tea.

Colds and cold

On Sunday night bumble bees invaded my nose and my head filled with soggy wool. The first winter cold...and a growing sense that the December deadline for Disney artworks was looming nearer. Tried to work but couldn't. Warm bed and cats the only option. I became very aware of the precarious position of freelancing, when time is money and there is no company safety net. Then the snow arrived. And the news that I can relax about the deadline because the project people are away on a business trip...so yesterday we escaped to to the woods with a Thermos of hot chocolate.

The pathways were scattered with pheasant tracks and deer prints. Scurrying in the undergrowth from foraging birds and the trees dripping a musical splattering of melting snow. We headed for the end of woods, where the stalky pines are lined up in eery regiments. There is a cold, stern atmosphere here - thickly layered pine needles muffle footfall. Foxgloves and Fly Agaric thrive in the acidic soil. If fairies live here, they are dark, trollish creatures, lurking in rotten, mossy stumps.

The sun was a fleeting visitor and the chill fell heavily. The only animals to be seen - some young milkers foraging in the fading light.

This morning, the snow is melting and my cold is - almost - gone.